Too Far Gone
by LannisGrimes
Summary: This story is being written in a pov format with five main pov characters: Rick, Carl, Michonne, Negan and Asha (OC). The story follows the basic framework of the show but will include bits of the comic book that I liked better and some from my own imagination. In a way this is a compilation of all the good bits from both the show and book and some from my imagination.
1. Chapter 1

**Too Far Gone**

 **The Broken Son**

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 **Synopsis:**

 **This story is being written in a pov format with five main pov characters: Rick, Carl, Michonne, Negan and Asha (OC).** **The story follows the basic framework of the show but will include bits of the comic book that I liked better and some from my own imagination.** **In a way this is a compilation of all the good bits from both the show and book and some from my imagination.** **Chapter 1: The Broken Son**  
 **Carl finds himself in a swallowing darkness when the shuffling of feet sends a chill down his spine as he awaits what's impending.**

* * *

Dad?

Dad, is that you?

Dad?

The boy called out for the umpteenth time into the blinding darkness. There was no sound except for his calls and the thumping in his chest accompanied by his shuddering breath. He felt the sweat trickle down his face and pool into the hollow of his neck.

"Dad!" he sobbed. "I am so sorry."

Hot tears spilled out copiously, streaming down his face and dripping on his hands. He looked down searching for his hands but the penetrating shadow of the darkness obscured every bit of him. He closed his eyes squeezing out the last drop of tears, letting the darkness engulf him.

He lay there for some time to be woken up by what sounded like a breaking twig and the crunching of leaves. He startled into consciousness, his hand finding its way to his waist, groping for his knife. A maddening fear gripped him as he heard the old peculiar groan and dragging feet. He jumped to his knees, crouching as he held his knife in one hand and his other hand mimicking the one that held the weapon. His breath was so laboured; he reckoned that the burning in his lungs would kill him before the walker reached him. His whole form was trembling and a continual chill attacked his spine. His clammy hands struggled to hold on to the knife and his knees began to shake as torrents of cold sweat started to drench him with the source of the sound progressively narrowing its distance from him. Unable to hold his ground he collapsed against the wall. He sat there, an arctic chill assaulting his body as he waited for his impending fate. His mind, a dizzy mess of memories, as he bid his family a silent farewell.

The groaning and shuffling of feet stopped just an arm's length away from him. He could hear its grating breath like sandpaper. He could feel the heat emanating off of it, putting him off guard. The warmth had this peculiar effect of abating his panic, his heartbeat placating to slow down. The smell of blood and sweat wafted into his face. And a scent so familiar that his inability to recognise it was nearly driving him crazy. As he pondered upon this strange situation he had found himself in, a raspy voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Carl? Carl. Be safe."

A gunshot pealed the otherwise silent darkness and Carl's knee seared with pain.

* * *

Carl lay under the white ceiling of his room as the moonlit breeze flooded it. He lay on the soft bed currently drenched in his own sweat. He felt like someone was choking him as he strained to catch his breath. He wheezed as he heaved himself up to sit. The strangulation deepening as his panic escalated. Disoriented, he jumped out of his bed kicking the duvet that tangled about his feet. His throbbing head weighing down on his shoulders. Spilling out of his room, his legs hurried him along the corridor to the room opposite to his. He opened the door to find the placid features of his kid sister snoring softly, untroubled and undisturbed. Gingerly, he closed the door back and limped to the room at the end of the hall. He deliberated for a while whether to knock but decided against it as he rationalised not to wake the inhabitants of the room for his own agitated heart. He just wanted to see them, he just wanted them safe!

His hand wrapped around the door knob. He gave it a careful turn and opened the door, cringing at the slight creak of the hinges. He stood at the door looking at the back of his mother and two year old Mickayla in her crib.

He stood there for some time taking in the emptiness. He swallowed hard and finally decided to leave them at peace. He motioned to close the door but the damned thing made that awful creak, again. His eyes immediately darted to see whether the noise had woken anyone up. To his great relief and guilt, Michonne stirred and sat up on the bed. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she looked at the silhouette by the door.

"Bad dream?"

Carl nodded. He looked on with guilt ridden eyes as she gathered herself up from the bed and walked to him, the moonlight washing over the room. He followed her suit and stepped outside the room.

She reached for her son to pull him in a half hug, squeezing his shoulder as she released him. They silently walked down the stairs and to the porch. The navy sky was dappled with a thousand stars. A light breeze caused the cling-clang of the wind chime that he got Judy for her tenth birthday. For a moment Carl found some peace within him as the breeze washed over his face; the throbbing in his head waning. He let out a cool sigh and seated himself on the cold wooden seat of the porch-swing.

Michonne seated herself on a wicker chair. This was a routine for them. Despite Carl's guilt at regurgitating his mess onto her he failed to not end up on this porch with her, every night.

Many a night he had tried to bottle it up and go back to sleep and many a night he had failed. Being locked in his mind's chokehold he had sought solace in Michonne. He knew that she had as much on her plate as him, maybe more but he still indulged in selfishly dumping his pain to add to hers.

Tonight he was silent; gently swinging, balancing on his toes taking in the night. At length Michonne inquired, "You wanna talk 'bout it?"

Carl let out another deep sigh and brushed his hair off of his only eye. He sensed her features soften more than it was as he looked at her with that sad ocean of an eye.

"I saw him again. I didn't...see him. I heard him, smelt him."

He continued trying to keep the emotions out of his voice.

"I don't really hate these dreams, you know?" he decided. "I find them comforting, like he is still here, that I will walk down the hall to your room and find him lulling Micka back to sleep. It's only when I wake up in the dark that freaks me out. I am sick of waking up to this confusion every night, struggling to come to terms with reality. God! I have seen him in so many different ways; saw him dying in so many different ways..."

He paused to stifle a sob that was inching closer to his mouth.

"I sometimes wish I never wake up from these dreams."

"Don't you even think like that!" Michonne hushed her terrified eyes boring into his. "You have two sisters to take care of. I know what you lost." Her eyes glistening as she spoke. "But you can't give up. You have this community. You have me!"

"I miss him..." Carl let that itching sob escape; the tears glazing over his eye.

"I miss him too." the tears flowing freely from her eyes as well.

She got up and sat herself beside Carl on the swing and drew her son into a tight hug.

The end of their session was always heralded by the dawn and Micka's scheduled wail. This time it was no different. On her cue, Michonne got up from the swing, gave Carl a kiss on the head and marched into the house. She didn't have the luxury to mourn.

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 **Author's Note:**

 **This is my first fanfic so I am looking forward to any constructive criticism to help me improve.** **Also if you liked this chapter please let me know; based on the response I will publish the next chapter.** **Any questions regarding the fic is welcome.** **Also I hope this chapter hasn't thrown off any viewer, I intend to make the fic realistic and bittersweet.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Sheriff

**Too Far Gone**

 **The Sheriff's Deputy**

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 **Synopsis:**

 **Synopsis: A day at work goes wrong for Rick Grimes of the King County Sheriff's Dept. Things go worse when he wakes into the worst nightmare.**

* * *

"What's the difference between men and women?"

Rick looked at his partner and best friend for an answer. He phrased it that way but he really just wanted to talk to him about his stressful domestic life. He already knew Shane would say some stupid shit like he was right now, about keeping lights on and shit but he needed to get this off of his chest. He needed to or else the hurt might as well kill him.

He let Shane finish.

As their laughter subsided Shane's face dropped to a concern as he asked, "So, how's it with Lori, man?"

"She's good; she's good at turning off the lights. I am the one who sometimes forgets." Rick quipped alluding to Shane's views that he just presented so elaborately.

"That's not what I meant."

After a couple more exchanges Rick divulged his conflict with Lori that morning. How she always wanted him to speak but when he did she didn't wanna hear it. How his every breath elicited only annoyance and impatience from her. How she was so adept at expelling caustic words against him. Like how today she told him that she sometimes wondered whether he even cared about them or not; that too in front of Carl.

"Difference between men and women? I would never say something so cruel to her; and certainly not in front of Carl."

No sooner did he finish than the radio beeped followed by the croak of the dispatcher. The static infused voice informed them of a pursuit taking place at highway 18 and rasping out the directions. Their adroit hands moved to clean up the food off of the dash and head out to the front lines.

There was already another unit at the vantage point when they arrived. They swiftly threw in the spike strip and drove a safe distance back. They blockaded the road with the cars and loaded their weapons; aim at the ready as they waited with bated breath for the delinquents.

They heard the revs before they saw the tin beast. It saw them but made no sign of slowing down. Godammit they meant to ram right past them! Fools.

They saw its sides dip as it ran straight over the spikes before it skidded and turned three and a half turns in the air, throwing it off the road. They immediately started firing at the occupants of the silver vehicle. The two Lincoln County units also joined in. Rick moved out of the shelter behind the car and moved closer. Two men came out in full assault, firing at the four police units. They collectively brought one down but before they could get to the second, he had shot Rick in the chest. The bullet caught in his vest knocking the breath out of his lungs. He lay on the ground partially for cover and partly out of the pain. He wheezed as he tried to regain his breath.

Eliminating the second, Shane hurried to Rick. Relieved to see it caught in his vest, he helps him to his feet.

"Are you okay?"

"I am fine, the sunnova bitch shot me, you believe that? Shane, you do not tell Lori that happened, ever."

The words barely left his mouth when he felt a blinding pain searing his flesh. More gun fires followed but it all sounded like a music fading out. He didn't feel any pain as his body made contact with the ground.

 _Shit! I am going numb._

His eyes were blinded by the clear sunlit blue of the sky. His face contorted as he struggled to keep breathing. Soon Shane's face blocked out the sky as Rick's vision started to blur.

"Shhh...keep looking at me, okay?"

Rick tried but he couldn't keep the gathering darkness, at bay.

* * *

Silence. A deafening silence.

That's what Rick Grimes of the King County Sheriff's Department woke out of and woke into. A veil of haze draped his eyes as he opened it after three weeks. He blinked back the throbbing in his head which wasn't really helping with his vision. He pulled his hands up to his head but the puncture on his hand made by the IV needle ripped a hole in protest.

Rick hissed in pain. He looked around, trying to gauze his surroundings but all he saw were some dead flowers in a vase and an assortment of medical tools, sheets, clothes and paper scattered on the floor.

His vision normalised as he took in the white of his hospital room.

 _Why am I in a hospital?_

He found the switch on his bed and buzzed it for help thrice, when he realised there wasn't a single electricity run contraption that was working. There was no beep boop from the heart rate monitor. Nor was there the low hum of the air conditioner.

Without warning an irrational fear started to dry out his already parched mouth. The shaking in his body didn't make it easier for him to get all the attachments off of him as he planned escape.

 _This is stupid. I should just stay put, someone will check in on me. It is just a power outage._

His mind failed to convince his body as it was already making its way out of the bed.

A blinding pain shot up his torso making his head devoid of any weight. His legs were jelly as he tumbled onto the floor. Realisation flooded in as he clutched his flank and bit back his pain in a muffle\d moan.

 _Oh yeah...that motherfucker shot me. I was shot._

He pulled himself onto his knees groaning in pain. He pushed the scant fabric of the hospital gown away to look at his wound. It was reeking with blood. Rick grimaced. After a few seconds of catching his breath, the panic was back again. He shot up on his wobbly legs, holding onto the bed to ensure he doesn't sink back to the floor. Like a fawn learning to walk, Rick stumbled towards the exit. He pulled the door open to be blocked by a stretcher. It took every ounce of his energy (or whatever was left of it) to move the stretcher out of the way and enter the deserted corridor.

 _What the...?_

His eyes widened and he found it incredibly difficult to stop the shivering in his body. He reminded himself to breathe again as he rationalised what he was seeing to be a dream. He slapped himself to wake up but all it did was worsen the dizziness. He had never felt this helpless and disoriented before.

His legs carried him on as he looked upon the desolate hospital. The walls were wrecked with bullet holes and the ceilings were baring the wires and pipes that precariously hung, threatening to give in. The lights were either off or smashed. The floor was a maze of cloths and syringes and other hospital paraphernalia. The destruction he saw was complemented with the assault on his nose. The smell of putrefaction hung like an asphyxiating quilt.

 _This can't be real. Where is everybody? What happened here?_

He turned left down the corridor to be greeted by darkness. He stretched his hands out to make sure he didn't run into anything. He could see light ahead where the ceiling has given away and the sun spilled in through it.

 _An exit!_

He could hear the muted rumblings coming from the other side. He quickened his pace only to be startled to a halt when he could read what was smeared on the doors.

"Don't Dead Open Inside?" he read to himself. "But that doesn't make sense."

"Don't open dead inside!" he read again. The closer he looked at the writing the less sense it made. The groaning had resumed and curiosity got the better of his judgement. He lifted the plank off of the handles and pulled a door.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw a cafeteria filled with people. Rotting people. The one close to Rick tilted its head and growled before speeding towards him. The flesh was hanging from his chin, raw and bloody; his eyes were opaque and the cheeks were showing bones. It looked something right out of a Stephen King novel.

Terrified in the most unusual sense he started to back away. He wasn't sure what it was and what it wanted and he sure as hell didn't want to stick around to learn. He promptly broke into a run making his way back up the hall, running past his room and into the reception hall. He dared not look back as he rammed his way through the doors and out of the god forsaken hospital.

He walked under the open sky breathing in the summer air which reeked with something unpleasant. He pondered upon his surroundings. He snorted out a laugh surprising himself. Then he let out a series of snickers. His eyes watered as the stitches in his torso stretched under his laugh. He didn't stop. A part of him just wanted to sit right where he was and wait for him to get up from this ludicrous nightmare. But his instinct was uneasy. His snickering was abruptly interrupted by another groan. He snapped his head in the direction of the sound and saw another of those people. This one was lying on its stomach or what was left of it. The guts were spilling out from the rear where the rest of her body should be. The poor thing was dragging herself towards Rick. The adrenaline resumed pumping in his blood as he prepared to run. He saw a bike lying on the turf off the road; his body suddenly mustered enough energy for him to make a run for it and escape. He pumped the pedals as hard as his frail condition could afford. His mind was a cluttered mess of thought. He didn't know where to start. Habitually, his thoughts went to Carl. He pedalled even harder.

* * *

Grimes residence was a ransacked mess as Rick checked every nook and corner for his missing son and wife.

"Caaarl! Lori!" he hollered.

Their bedroom was uncharacteristically dishevelled with all the drawers and wardrobe doors open. He scanned the room before getting back to the living room. The whole house looked like it has been burgled. He helplessly veered his eyes everywhere for a clue as to what in the name of the holy mother is going on. His eyes settled on the little clean rectangular patches on the wall.

 _ **BLAM!**_

Rick's head snapped in the general direction of the gunshot. His heart beat so fast that it threatened to burst out. He slowly inched towards the window.

A boy and a man scurried across the street to the Drake's residence.

He followed them to the Drake's and knocked on the door.

Silence.

He knocked again this time calling out. "Hello. I just saw you guys from across the street...I was at the hospital...is there anyone..."

Before the question could leave his mouth he heard the sound of a blunt object before the pain set in. The ground slipped out of his feet as he fell to his side.

"Hey mister, what's that bandage for? You tell me or I WILL shoot you."

Rick opened his eyes to a barrel of said gun before plunging into darkness again.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **This is my first fanfic so I am looking forward to any constructive criticism to help me improve. Also if you liked this chapter please let me know; based on the response I will publish the next chapter. Any questions regarding the fic is welcome.**


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